Gold metallic temporary tattoo of filigree ornaments with black gems across a forearm, wrist and hand, with a second design on the lower leg.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Gold metallic temporary tattoos on arm and hand

Forearm · Colour · Photo

Two temporary gold metallic designs sit on bare skin, one running across a forearm and onto the back of the hand, the other on an upper arm and wrist. The ornate filigree patterns use swirls, scrolls and teardrop shapes, with small black gems set into the design. The subject is photographed outdoors on grass, with a dark grey garment and a white object at the top edge of the frame.

Forearm Hand Ankle Filigree Ornament Swirl Paisley Gemstone Metallic Temporary tattoo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Okafor kept the transfers in a biscuit tin with a cracked lid, and on Thursdays she let me sort them by how much they shone. Gold went to the Saturday crowd, silver to the Tuesday widows who wanted something to flash when the lights dropped at the Mirabel Rooms. I learned to tell a good scroll from a smudged one by the way the light sat on it, and to count the little black stones Vernon insisted on setting by hand, cut from his mother's jet necklace the winter after she died.

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The pattern that autumn was Ada's idea. She had drawn it on the back of a fish-van receipt: teardrops stacked like paisley, curling into spirals that ran from wrist to knuckle. Vernon said it looked like a gate in the rain. Ada said it looked like the trumpet line bending before the last note. I cut the sheets with Mrs Okafor's good scissors and packed them in tissue, twelve sets for the dancers, plus one extra folded into my apron pocket because Ada had asked for it without saying why.

On the night of the Harvest Dance the hall smelled of pomade and wet coats. I watched from the balcony rail as the couples turned under the glitter ball, and the gold caught each sweep of light and threw it back in pieces. Nobody noticed the stones at first. Then Ada lifted her hand to signal the band, and a bead of jet skittered loose and rolled across the boards like a dark coin. Vernon stopped the music. Everyone looked down. Only I looked at Ada, who was already smiling, because she had set that stone herself, the one piece of real jet in the whole design.

Next morning I swept gold flakes from between the floorboards until the broom shone. I kept the loose stone in my pocket. When I pressed the spare transfer onto my own wrist to see if the gold would hold, it did, a teardrop curling over the bone, and it was still there on Tuesday when Ada came in with her coat over one arm and asked whether I'd like to learn the foxtrot properly.